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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28323147">use your words</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/madwithmissing/pseuds/madwithmissing'>madwithmissing</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Divergent, M/M, Magic, One Shot, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, everything i write is a character study, this is basically a character study</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:13:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,390</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28323147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/madwithmissing/pseuds/madwithmissing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Morgana, Fiona, what did you do?<br/>What did I do?</p><p>or</p><p>baz goes to take simon's voice and philippa stainton doesn't get in the way this time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>use your words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I’m going to do it. I’ve just got to do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The recorder’s in my pocket, my hand’s on the button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s behind me. I can hear his ridiculous feet on the grass. (He doesn’t pick them up when he walks. He drags.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span> I don’t know when to stop, when to turn around. Part of me doesn’t want to look at him at all. (I can’t look at him sometimes. There was a time when all I did was stare at him. Nothing mattered then. It all matters too much now.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m walking with my head up, like I’m headed somewhere, like I know what I’m doing. Truthfully, I’ve never been so out of my element. I don’t know when to turn around, I don’t know if I should say something to him, I don’t even know what this </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>is going to do. To him. To me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stupid fucking footsteps are getting louder and closer so, alright, I’ll do it. I’ll turn around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turn around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s gawking at me. Maybe he’s wondering why I haven’t turned into a bat already. (I don’t know what he knows about vampires. I don’t know what </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>know about vampires.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stare, for just a moment, at his face; at his freckles, all screwed up with his expression; at his teeth, bared like a dog. I fucking hate him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you up t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I click the button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a terrible, prolonged moment there’s a noise. I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t think I’ve heard anything remotely like it before and I never wish to hear it again. It almost sounds like a shout, like a scream. My mind doesn’t understand it and it’s trying to pick a word, trying to decipher it, but there’s nothing to decipher. He’s not saying a word. He’s saying every word. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A lifetime of words.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as it starts, it’s over. Eerie silence settles over us.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow’s face is even more screwed up now, his eyes wild. I’m trying not to show the shock on mine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I think I know what’s happened but I don’t want it to be true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Snow opens his mouth, forms a word, and says nothing. He says nothing. He tries again. Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Merlin and Morgana, Fiona, what did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Snow’s mouth keeps moving, I can almost read his lips. (This is the most I’ve looked directly at him in months.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He races towards me, hands up. His feet aren’t dragging anymore, he’s almost flying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before I can move, get away, fight back, his hands are grabbing my collar, his face directly in front of mine. I suppose he’s threatening me or something, but I can’t tell. He’s just spitting at me, hissing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’d be funny if it wasn’t terrifying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I chuckle and his eyes widen even more, like he’s appalled. I let myself laugh. It’s funny, truly. He looks ridiculous. He sounds even funnier, breathing at me through gritted teeth. I’m not thinking about the implications.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Snow…” I try to say, but I’m really, fully cackling now. “Snow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I take deep breaths. Open my eyes. Stare at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on. Speak up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He punches me in the face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alright. I deserved that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look away, recoiling, and when I look back, hand on my face, he’s falling to the ground, sobbing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can’t stay, can’t look at him any longer, can’t face what has happened. So, I step over him and go to the catacombs. I’m not sure I’ll ever go back to our room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snow’s not in class the next day. I’m not surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t spend any time thinking about it last night. Over the years, I’ve gotten very good at ignoring things. I’m ignoring the shit out of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, as I start to practise spells, my mind wanders. I stare out the window at the clouds, covering the sky. I think about how Snow won’t do this again. Ever? Crowley, what the fuck did I do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I think about Snow’s newfound silence. You can’t be a magician without a voice. Everyone knows this. Language is our power. There is nothing more important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then I think about how everything is over. I did it. I’ve won.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, why don’t I feel satisfied?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Snow is in our room when I come back after classes. Bunce is sitting on his bed with him, hand on his back. I don’t have the energy to question how Bunce got in. I don’t even have the energy to yell at her or whatever I would normally do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bunce, however, </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>the energy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you do it, Baz?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look up at her, meet her eyes. I can tell she’s holding back. “Do what?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck you. We both know you did it. Simon told me you did it. How?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I sit at my desk. I’m trying so hard. “Why can’t Snow speak for himself?” Cruel. I’m so cruel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her stand. She stays in place. “We’ll go to the Mage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go for it,” I say, looking at her fully, “I didn’t do anything. Don’t even know what’s up with Snow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath, it’s loud. “You disgust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, she grabs Snow’s arm and leads him out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I watch them as they go, hoping against hope, against my own better judgement, that Snow will turn around and yell at me, that he’ll say something stupid and I’ll snark back and everything will go back to normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Speak to me, Snow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing happens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I am left alone in silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s hours later that I finally leave our room, go to sit on the Lawn, under a tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is a terrible idea, however, because Snow is there with Bunce and he’s not crying anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He marches toward me, like a soldier. I stand. There’s a bit of a crowd, maybe ten others and they’re all watching, trying to look like they’re not. (Everyone’s always watching him. It’s easier to look than to look away.)</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Baz</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I see him mouth. It’s not funny this time. His eyes are narrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(I won’t admit it to anyone, only to myself in the middle of the night, but I love him like this. He’s so strong.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth keeps moving and his hand goes to his side, his waist. This is what he does when he calls for his sword. As if it’ll come. As if it’ll hear him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, magic doesn’t answer to logic. His sword appears in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to do with it. It’s not like we can spar. (I brought nothing but a textbook.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Does he want to kill me? (Of course he does. But would he?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of me thinks he’s doing this just for dramatic effect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he’s close enough to me that no one else can hear, I say “Use your voice, Snow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to say something, I can’t make it out, and then I’m pushed back against the tree. Magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I look up at him, stare. My hair is all in front of my eyes and I watch him as he glares. He lifts his sword and for a shining, glorious moment I see Simon Snow, chosen one, hero. His hair flows a bit in a nonexistent wind, his sword glints in a sun that isn’t there. He looks so… right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swings his sword and I flinch as he buries it into the tree trunk beside me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face is inches from mine. I feel his breath. (Fuck him for making me think about all this right now.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mouths </span>
  <em>
    <span>sit down</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He towers over me, finally taller than me like he’s always wanted to be. There’s fire in his eyes. (For a moment, I’m jealous. Fire is my thing.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As I’m looking up, I see, slightly beside and behind me, his sword vanishing from within the tree, leaving a dent. He turns around and walks back to Bunce, head held high. He doesn’t look like me from last night, trying to look confident but internally faltering. No, he looks sure of himself. He looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>powerful</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simon Snow. You’re so strong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keep walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I concede.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi! i hope u liked that! feedback is so so appreciated. merry christmas from this jew to you.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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